


Growing Up Is Optional

by LogicalBookThief



Series: One and a Half Stans AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 0/10 would not hire as babysitter, Badass Dipper and Mabel, Bill is a manipulative lil' shit, Gen, bad with kids, de-aged!Stan, one and a half stans au, protective!Ford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 06:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicalBookThief/pseuds/LogicalBookThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins and Ford realize that de!aged Stan’s gone missing. Ford heads to woods to search for him, hoping he’s not too late. Meanwhile, an old enemy watches, waiting for the perfect opportunity…</p><p>Sequel to 'We Must Not Look at Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruit'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up Is Optional

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here, on tumblr: http://logicalbookthief.tumblr.com/post/127166682844/growing-up-is-optional
> 
> The exciting conclusion to the adventures of smol!Stan and his emotionally constipated brother ft. Badass Niblings.

_It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are - E.E. Cummings_

_ _ _ _ _

It was nearing suppertime when Dipper announced to the room at large, “Where’s Stan?”

“Eh?” Mabel echoed, pulling a frozen pizza from the fridge. “You said _you_ would keep an eye on him while I was with Grenda and Candy this afternoon.”

“I _did,”_ Dipper defended. “Then I was helping Wendy with the Shack and Stan got bored so he went to find Great Uncle Ford. But I saw _him_ head into the basement not long ago so I assumed Stan went to play somewhere else.“

"Maybe he’s in the bathroom!” Mabel supplied, after a moment of thought. “I’ve been trying to teach him the important of hygiene!”

Dipper sighed. “Okay, you look there. I’ll start checking the rest of the rooms.“

The two scoured the Shack for their missing charge, but to no avail. In the midst of their search, Ford emerged from the basement. “What’s going on?” he asked, eyes narrowed at the pair.

“Don’t panic,” Mabel began pacifistically, which only made her great uncle more suspicious. “But we _might_ have misplaced mini Grunkle Stan.”

“You _what?”_ Ford gaped. Both kids winced guiltily.

“He must have wandered off while we were busy,” she explained. “We searched the whole house but couldn’t find him!”

“Last time I saw him, he said he was going to look for you,” Dipper added.

“I haven’t seen Stanley in hours,” Ford muttered, brow creasing. “You said you checked the _entire_ house?”

The twins nodded.

“Damn it,” Ford sighed under his breath. He stalked swiftly towards the door, the children hot on his heel. “I’m going out to look for him.”

Mabel gasped, “You think he went into the woods?”

“If he’s not here, then that’s the logical assumption.”

“But we told him it wasn’t safe,” Dipper retorted, slightly annoyed.

“Did you listen to him when he told you to keep _your_ noses out of the paranormal?” Ford pointed out. The boy grimaced sheepishly. “Exactly.”

“Alright,” agreed Dipper. “I’ll grab flashlights.”

“I’ll grab my crossbow!” Mabel proclaimed.

 _“No,”_ Ford said sternly. “You two are staying put.”

Mabel frowned. “But we can find him faster if we split up and look–”

“I said, _no.”_ Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, already fuming with stress. “I’ll have enough to worry about finding my brother without two more irresponsible children to look after.”

Seeing their kicked-puppy expressions, he felt a twinge of regret. “Just…I need you to be safe, okay?” he implored them, opting for honesty. “And somebody should be here in case Stan comes back on his own. Can I trust you with that?”

“Of course,” they chorused, lackluster but sincere.  

“Good,” Ford mumbled, knowing it would have to do. “I’ll be back.

And with that, he disappeared out the door.

.

.

.

.

One of the rare downsides of having a mind that worked a mile a minute was how many worst-case scenarios you could configure without breaking a sweat. Already ten minutes into his trek and Stanford was worried sick with imagining the myriad of large, lethal creatures his young, helpless brother might’ve come across

His worst fears were confirmed when he heard a shriek echo through the trees.

 _Stanley._ Heart in his throat, Ford rushed towards the sound, weapon drawn.

Clambering over a small ridge of rocks, the sight that greeted Ford was nearly too beautiful to behold – Stanley, in one piece, thin chest heaving with conspicuous _life._

“Ford?”

“Stan,” Ford breathed, embracing the ten-year-old. “Sweet Moses, you’re _safe._ Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

 _“Ford,”_ Stan stressed urgently, slapping his hands against his brother’s chest. “Look out!”

A growl erupted from behind him, and Stanford whipped around in time to see a _gremloblin_ lunging for them. He managed to roll them out of the way to avoid a swipe of its massive paw, but he cursed himself for not realizing sooner – they were cornered against the stone, with no way out. And he wasn’t sure he had enough ammo to take down a fully-grown gremloblin.

 _Think, Poindexter. Use that big brain of yours._ Stan’s voice rang through his head, and somehow it helped, for Ford had an idea. If he wasn’t mistaken, the rock beneath their feet emptied into a hollow cave.

“Shouldn’t you be aiming that somewhere else?” Stan yelped as Ford shot a round into the rock, carving out an escape route.

“No time,” he asserted, and without further explanation, grabbed his brother, and plunged them feet-first into the darkness below.

They dropped roughly ten feet, landing on an uncomfortably hard slab of rock. Ford groaned at the impact, thankful that his larger body had absorbed it, with Stan curled on top of him.

“Are you okay?” he questioned breathlessly.

“Y-Yeah,” Stan stammered. Ford couldn’t express how relieved he was to have his brother secure and intact. However, once the relief burned its way through him, it left a clear path for anger and exasperation.

“What were you _thinking?”_ he demanded. “Running off alone like that, after we told you how dangerous it was! Do you realize how foolish that was?”

Stan didn’t reply, eyes determinedly downward.  

“Well?” Ford prompted, giving him a little shake. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I know the truth now,” answered his brother, quiet and resentful. For a moment, Ford wondered what he was talking about. “I know the truth about future me. About _us._ I heard what you said back at the house. And I ran away because I got upset.”

Taken aback, Ford balked. “H-How much did you hear?”

 _“All_ of it.” Stan reeled on his brother accusingly, tears of indignation springing forth, “What gives, Sixer? We were supposed to be together forever!”

Ford flinched. “Stanley, you have to understand. A lot has changed since we were children–”

 _“Yeah,”_ muttered Stan sorely. “Like Dad kicking me out, me going to prison, me having no home or money…”

“…I suppose that’s the gist of it, yes.” Ford sighed. “I’m sorry, Stan, but the truth is you – the older you – made quite a mess of things.”

 _“I_ made a mess?” Stan screeched, with all the righteous fury of a wronged child. _“You didn’t talk to me for ten years!”_

Rattled by a rush of shame, Ford glanced away, unable to take the heat of that glare. “…I was angry,” he said at length.

“You was stupid!” Stan shot back, sniveling. “A stupid, mean old jerk.”

He kicked at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the rock, not hard enough to hurt, yet a low “Ow,” escaped his mouth.

“Stan?” Ford glanced up sharply. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

A stubborn silence ensued, but Ford, whose mind was quickly compiling with all the horrendous injuries his brother might’ve sustained, was in no mood to accommodate.

“Stanley, _come here.”_ His brother went ramrod straight, and Ford himself was taken by surprise, when the unmistakable timbre of Filbrick’s Pines absolute authority seeped through his voice. Unwilling to linger on it, Ford silently inspected his brother for damage.

He hissed as Ford’s hand ran over his left leg and bit his lip, trying to stifle the noise. Ford investigated further, finding the area caked with blood and dirt.

“What happened?” he murmured.

“Cut my leg when I fell. Ow!” Stan winced, as Ford scraped carefully at the dirt and gravel stuck in the wound, mumbling apologies. “And I might’ve rolled into a sticker bush.”

“Let me see,” Ford insisted, brow knitted with concern.

But Stan twisted out of his grip, fed up. “What do you _care?”_ he barked, turning away. “Y-You said you hated me.”

Ford stared, slack-jawed and stung. How could Stanley ever suggest that he – of course, what he’d overheard Ford say must have been incredibly jarring and painful, but how could he think for even a second that Ford didn’t care? It was completely irrational–

And like a light switch flickering on, it clicked. Ford was looking at this from an _adult’s_ perspective, yet his brother certainly wasn’t. And to a child like Stan, what was the opposite of hate? _Love._ How could love, something so beautiful and pure, ever coexist with _hate,_ something so mean and ugly?

“Stanley, look at me,” Ford prodded gently, pulling his brother around until they were face-to-face. “Just because we fought doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring about you. You’re my brother, no matter what age, and I love you.”

His brother made a valiant effort to appear unmoved throughout his speech, but the last bit cut straight through his façade; and without a word, Stan launched himself at his brother, wrapping his skinny arms around Ford’s shoulders, snotty nose leaking against his brother’s shirt. Ford didn’t mind, placing a hand at the back of Stan’s head, holding him close.

“Maybe I did an awful job of showing it,” he admitted against his brother’s hair, saying words he should have said to the grown Stan a long time ago. “Maybe I made a lot of mistakes, too…”

.

.

.

.

Back at the Shack, the other set of Pines twins were growing antsy, to say the least. Dipper paced around the kitchen; after spending half the summer handling every curveball this strange town threw his way, he was not particularly fond of being kept out of the action. Meanwhile, in the other room, Mabel tried to keep busy by tidying up.

“Dipper,” she called out. Her voice was strained.

“What’s up?” he asked, frowning. Mabel didn’t reply, instead handing him a piece of paper. It was a drawing, but not his sister’s, based on the style. So it must have been Stan’s, something from one of their many arts & crafts projects.

It only took a few seconds for Dipper to realize the significance of the drawing.

“We have to find Ford,” he stated inarguably. Mabel nodded. Together, they headed for the door, the paper depicting a familiar triangle in a top-hat fluttering soundlessly to the floor.

.

.

.

.

They remained in the cave for a solid twenty minutes, subdued after their heart-to-heart. Ford sat pensively, collecting his thoughts. Stanley remained attached to his shirt, toying with the loose strings of Ford’s sweater, content after being reassured of his brother’s affections. It was one of the most gracious, terrifying aspects of this world, how swiftly and easily a child’s forgiveness could be earned.

“Coast should be clear,” Ford announced, after hearing no further activity from above. The gremloblin must have left by now. “C’mon, we’re getting out of here.”

“How?”

“Simple.” Ford grinned, pointing upward at the hole he’d created. “We climb.”

“Are you kidding?” Stan deadpanned.

“Hang onto me,” Ford instructed, waiting until Stan had his arms securely wrapped around his neck and his legs around his torso. “I won’t let you fall.”

It wasn’t as easy as he would have his brother believe, but thirty years in the multiverse had left Ford with superb agility and strength, considering his age. They emerged no worse for wear, if not a little breathless.

“There,” he declared, winded. “Simple.”

Stan snorted, and then squawked as he was hoisted into his brother’s arms once more. “Ford, I can _walk,”_ he whined.

“Your leg stills hurts, doesn’t it?” When his brother didn’t deny it, Ford continued, “It’s fine, you barely weigh anything – being my _little_ brother and all.”

“Hey!” Stan cried indignantly, but the protest was lost among a fit of giggles when Ford attacked him under the chin, one of his weakest ticklish spots. “Haha, no fair, you’ve got an extra finger to tickle with! Ha, okay, I give! Uncle! Uncle!”

Ford chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Let’s get back to the Shack,” he suggested, a sense of peace settling over him.

He couldn’t have taken more than three steps before this peace was shattered. “Well, well, well. Top notch performance there, Four Eyes. Looks like you learned a lot on the other side.”

Ford whirled around, eyes blown wide behind his glasses. He recognized _that_ voice, would know it anywhere. It was the voice that had echoed through his head, whispered in his ear at night, and haunted his very dreams. He damn well _knew_ who it was and it set his teeth on edge.

But it was Stan who spoke. “Bill?”

A heavy, led weight settled in the pit of his stomach. _No,_ he thought, staring down at his sibling with dawning horror. _No, it can’t be._

“Stan,” he whispered faintly, trying to remain calm for his brother’s sake. “How do you know that name?”

“Oh, the kid and I have become real pals,” Bill informed cheerily, looking straight at Stan. “Ain’t that right, short stuff?”

“Bill’s a magician,” Stan told his brother, nodding. “Like the ones on TV. He taught me a coin trick – ugh, _Ford,_ you’re choking me.”

Ford wasn’t listening, clutching Stan tighter against him, as if to shield him from the demon’s view. “He’s only a child, Cipher,” he spat, cold with fear and fury. “Leave him alone.”

“Now, now,” Bill tsked. “That’s no way to make friends, Stanford. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to share?”

“Let me rephrase,” Ford snarled, whipping out his gun and aiming it at the demon. “Stay away from my brother.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Bill chortled, adopting a Western drawl. “Alright then, partner… _draw!”_

Ford could no nothing as Stanley was ripped from his arms, as he flew backwards, pushed by some invisible barrier. It pinned him against a nearby tree, and despite his best efforts, nothing would budge it.

“Stanley, run! Quickly! Before it’s too late!”

“Hey, what’re you doing?!” Stan exclaimed, and Ford realized that not only did the barrier prevent him from reaching his brother, but also deafened the boy to his voice. “Let him go!”

“Relax, I won’t hurt him,” Bill promised. “I swear! I only wanted us to chat without interference. Just you and me, kiddo.”

“Don’t believe him, Stan! Don’t worry about me, run!” Ford tried uselessly.

Unable to hear his warnings, Stan hesitated a minute before nodding. “Just you and me.”

“So what’s the deal, Stan-o?” Bill inquired. “We had a deal, didn’t we? I’m willing to hold up _my_ end of the bargain.”

“I wasn’t strong enough to beat the monster. Ford had to save me,” admitted Stan. “And I don’t know about our deal anymore. I’m having second thoughts…”

 _Deal?_ Ford’s blood ran cold. _No, it can’t be too late. Don’t let it be too late!_

“Why, ‘cause your big brother rescued you, so now you think he cares?” Bill hazarded, causing the boy to wince. “I mean, sure, why wouldn’t he? Look in a mirror, kid, you’re _adorable._ One glance at your leaking eyes and he would promise anything under the blue sky for you to stop. But riddle me this, short stuff: what happens when you’re not so cute anymore? When you’re a cranky, lonely old man again?”

Stanley wrung his hands together, uncertain. Bill saw his vulnerability and pounced.

“Not everything lasts forever. Siblings grow apart, friendships end. You grow up, you get bitter. Being an adult is nasty business, if you ask me.”

“Yeah,” Stan grumbled. Ford’s heart sunk at the anguish in his tone. “No arguments here.“

“Lucky for you,” Bill said brightly. “Growing up is _optional.”_

Stan wrinkled his nose. “No, it’s not,” he said sensibly.

“Au contraire, my slow friend,” the demon revealed. “See, if you separate your soul from the body, it stops aging. You stay young. Better yet, you stay you. No midlife crisis or puberty guaranteed.”

Tilting his head, Stan regarded the demon curiously. “How does that work?”

 _“No,”_ Ford gasped, horrified, scrabbling at the barrier with renewed vigor.

“It only takes a second,” Bill assured cheerfully. “Doesn’t even hurt, trust me.”

“NO,” Stanford shouted, pounding with all his might. He _knew_ what Cipher meant and the mere idea curdled his insides with dread and disgust. “Don’t listen to him, Stanley! Please!”

“What happens to my body?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Bill waved off, a sinister undercurrent lacing his tone. “I’ll take care of everything.”

_“No, Stanley, stop. Don’t!”_

“Growing up sounds real scary when you put it like that,” Stan mumbled soberly. “All the changes and not knowing… I used to think that I knew how everything would turn out but… I guess I was wrong.”

“Way wrong,” Cipher agreed, unhelpfully.

“But if I stay young forever, I can’t be with my family,” the boy persisted. “And Stanford, he’d just keep getting older and older, and I couldn’t be there for him. I can’t let that happen. My brother _needs_ me. So, even if I don’t like it, I’ll just have to suck it up.”

“The brother that admitted to _hating_ you?” His audience waning, Bill brought out the big guns. “Aren’t you forgetting something? He didn’t seem to have a problem leaving _you_ behind.”

 _“Shut up!”_ Ford yelled furiously. “Stanley, I’m _sorry,_ I’m sorry for everything. It was my fault, too. I’m sorry.” He banged his bloody knuckles against the barrier, praying now, begging aloud, “Please don’t do it. _Please.”_

“Face it, kiddo,” Bill advanced relentlessly. “All your family’s ever done is show you the door and give you grief. Why should you _help_ any of them?”

At this, Stan’s expression hardened, glaring as if the demon had personally insulted him. “Because family doesn’t work that way, stupid,” he burst out, taking the offensive. “You don’t help them only to help yourself and you don’t – you don’t do it for _you,_ you do it for _them._ That’s the whole point.”

 _Stan…_ Ford gazed at his sibling in wonder, touched by his love and loyalty.

“So you help even if they _do_ hate you,” Stan conveyed with conviction. “Ever if they don’t thank you for it.”

“Oho, what a load of crap,” Bill laughed disdainfully. “Kid, you’re even dumber than I thought when it comes to _people._ Mark my words, it’ll come back to bite you in the end.”

“I think it’s you who doesn’t understand,” said Stan confidently. “And I don’t think I want to see you anymore.”

“Hehehe. Aww, you meat sacks are cute when you’re acting brave,” Bill patronized. “What’re you gonna do, mak–” Just then, an arrow sailed through the air, zooming through his translucent form.

“You heard him, Bill,” a familiar tween’s voice boomed. “Take a hike!”

“Dipper! Mabel” Stan shouted at the sight of his niblings.

“Ugh, what is this, the Pines family reunion?” Bill complained.

“Hold it right there,” Mabel hollered, aiming her crossbow at the triangular demon.

“Cool it, Shooting Star. Deal’s gone stale, so I’m blowing this Popsicle stand. Getting too sappy for my tastes,” he claimed. “But don’t get _too_ comfy. I’ll be seeing you reaaal soon.”

With that, the demon disappeared with a _pop_ of smoke and light. Dipper made a beeline for his young grunkle. “Stan, you alright?”

“Uh huh,” Stan answered. The barrier had disappeared along with Bill, freeing his brother, yet Ford had yet to move from where he was hunched over on the ground. Stan jogged over to him, the twins not far behind. “Ford?” he prodded, tentatively.

“Thank God,” rasped his brother, nearly inaudible. His voice was raw with emotion; Stan wondered briefly if he was _crying,_ though dismissed it almost immediately. Stanford was way too cool, although he did appear to be in rough shape. “You didn’t do it. You _didn’t.“_

“’Course not,” Stan soothed, laying a pair of small, grubby hands over his brother’s bowed shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got your back, bro.”

“I know,” Ford smiled, pulling his brother in for a proper hug. “I’ve got yours, too.”

 _And I won’t let go,_ he vowed, silently and to himself. _Not ever again._

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think~ Feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
